


one plus one equals one

by moonbabie



Category: VIXX, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fake/Pretend Singlehood, Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 03:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17276231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonbabie/pseuds/moonbabie
Summary: 4 times the boys witness something they don’t understand, and 1 time they discover everything.Or Kim Seokjin has been together and married to Lee Jaehwan for the past 6 years, and never quite got around to telling his boys. Oops?





	one plus one equals one

**Author's Note:**

> i've actually been sitting on this fic for a little while waiting for gayo to see if there'd be any interaction -> cue me checking the kenjin tag on twitter and finding it filled only with people asking/waiting for kenjin interactions the past few months asdjskdal SOMEONE HELP US 
> 
> quick note: this takes place a couple years in the future and there's a little bit of canon divergence here for how long jaehwan and seokjin have known each other? but for context, they've known each other since they were basically rookies so they've been friends a bit longer

“Have you ever been in love hyung?” Jimin asks him, and Namjoon pauses, really gives himself time to think about it.

“I think so.”

“Ooh, when?”

“Jiyeon. A year back, do you remember?” Namjoon’s last ex. He hadn’t introduced her to the boys, but he’d gotten close, had talked about her a few times at least.

Jimin nods.

“I think she was the first person I ever truly was in love with.”

“How’d you know?” Jimin asks.

“Her happiness felt more important than mine, at some point.” Namjoon thinks, how to put it into words. Maybe part of it was that he couldn’t describe the feeling, that it’d just felt something like the intersection of joy, desire, an aching homesickness. But it's matured differently for him, acknowledging that what he felt was love, but perhaps not a love that was right for him, that was good to him.

Jimin nods seriously.

“How about you Jin-hyung? Have you been in love?” Jimin turns to Seokjin, unusually quiet. Come to think of it, Namjoon didn’t think he knew anything about Seokjin’s love life, other than the shit Yoongi always gave him for his numerous alleged admirers in high school.

Seokjin kept affairs of the heart close to his chest, a measure of caution or privacy or both.

Seokjin hums, tilts his head. Eventually, after a long pause, “I have.”

“Ah, listen to your wise hyung. I was once in love,” he says grandly, turning to stare off into the distance, that purposeful wind-up he did when he wanted to build suspense, draw attention. Jimin giggles in anticipation.

“I was just a boy, innocent, naive.”

“When have you ever been innocent hyung?” Namjoon asks, ducking when Seokjin throws a tissue pack at him.

“There I was, standing under a rain of sakura petals. They saw me, of course, and couldn’t resist this face. We started talking and the rest is history.”

“Wow hyung. Exciting,” Namjoon deadpans.

“Yah! It was very passionate, I can’t speak of it around children’s ears.”

“But hyung, you’re listening right now?” Jimin says, blinking innocently.

Seokjin goes over and squashes down onto Jimin’s lap with a heavy thump and Jimin goes under, falling back against the couch with a groan. He recovers admirably though after a few seconds and sits up, weaving an arm around Seokjin’s waist to keep him there.

“So what happened?” Namjoon asks.

“Nothing. They’re one of my best friends now.”

Huh, Namjoon thinks. So it ended well. He tries to rack through his memory of Jin’s friends, but he can never keep track, Seokjin seeming to meet up with different people at every awards show, popping up at various tables, always chatting to someone new.

“Aww, Jin-hyung,” Jimin says. “You sap.”

Seokjin smiles, and there’s a glint of something that looks pinched, that makes him look vaguely guilty, but it’s gone in a second.

“How about you Jiminie?”

“Single as always.” Jimin smushes his face to Seokjin’s back. Namjoon goes to join them on the couch and Jimin tips onto his shoulder instead.

“Guess we’ll all be single pringles together,” Namjoon says, reaching up to pat Seokjin’s shoulder.

“Hah, yeah,” Seokjin says, voice strained as he turns to look at the ground.

“If we all aren’t in relationships by 40, we can all make a pact to marry each other,” Jimin says. “Might as well combine work and love life and make it efficient.”

“Bangtan husbands,” Seokjin says, grinning. They all fist bump.

 

* * *

 

“5 minute break! Get water, stretch, and then we’re moving onto the next set.”

Hoseok decompresses with a groan, stretching out his arms, then calves. His elbows, then his shoulders both pop, immediately followed by a satisfying soreness that he shakes off with a couple of quick bounces in place. His whole body burns, but he’s still running off the adrenaline and energy from late night practice, not yet tipped into the bone-aching weariness sure to set in about 2 hours.

2 hours left then; for now, his dry throat is his most immediate concern, and maybe finding a towel to wipe away his drenched neck.

He looks around. Yoongi’s water is within range to snatch for a quick drink, but he’s only one pull away from emptying his bottle. The rest are halfway across the room, sticky limbs still splayed across the floor. Refill it is, he thinks with a groan, grabbing his thermos.

He heads out into the hallway. It’s a new building, but he’s pretty sure the nearest water station is just down the hallway and around the corner, right next to the cafeteria.

He hums as he walks, trying to figure out the melody that’s been stuck in his head all day. Even dance practice hadn’t been enough to dislodge it, the melody returning back, something he’s not sure he’s heard before. It keeps looping, and he doesn’t known if it’s because it’s catchy or because he’s trying to remember it long enough that he’ll have time to notate it all down when they all get back. He doesn’t want to forget it, not that it’s giving him much choice with the amount of brain space it’s taking hostage.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that it’s too late by the time he’s already aware of another voice around the hallway, someone either talking to themselves or on the phone, both private activities he doesn’t want to intrude on. He halts once he realizes, makes to turn back around, but the sound of the voice arrests him in place. He recognizes that voice.

“Ugh this new choreo is killing me Wannie. Where are the ballads, I’m ready to have an all chair choreo.”

Seokjin’s voice, floating loud and distinctive through the air, that whininess to his tone like he’s half-joking.

Hoseok peeks around the corner as discreetly as he can, curiosity peaked, and sees Seokjin, legs splayed out in front of him, sitting on the ground. His eyes are closed, head tipped back. He retreats. Right, phone call, private business Hoseok. Best to leave it to him.

“My knee?” A pause. “I know, I know, I’ll ice it after practice, I brought the brace today, it's not too bad.”

That grabs his attention again, though this time admittedly tinged with more worry. He thought Seokjin’s knee problems were a one-time thing; Seokjin had only ever brought it up to their trainers once and then never again. But it’d been difficult to keep track of - he supposes Seokjin’s usual jeans or sweats at practice would be the perfect mask over a brace. Still, the hiding of it worries him the most. He’ll have to keep a low eye on Seokjin in practices, make sure he’s stretching properly, if only for his own peace of mind.

He peeks back around, curiosity nudging him once more. Seokjin rubs absentmindedly at his knees, his calves.

“Yeah I won’t get back til probably after 12 again.” Seokjin’s mouth has a wearied turn to it, mouth pursed. He sighs, tips his head against the wall.

“It’s been a long day.” He curls into himself, towards the phone.

“Sometimes it feels like no matter how hard I try or how much I practice, I’m not good enough anyways. It's just so-.“ He breaks away into a frustrated sigh.

Hoseok pulls back, a guilty ache numbing his chest.

Seokjin never revealed his frustration or disappointment to them - the most he’d do was laugh or nod with a firm apology. If he hadn’t caught Seokjin after hours in solo dance rehearsals, he’d have thought Seokjin didn’t think about it all, let the teacher’s comments brush right off of him.

But he does know now. He shouldn’t be here.

Seokjin takes a breath-stuttering inhale, and then lets it all out. He clears his throat.

“Can you pick up some noodles? That place we went with your mom last time, with the soy sauce incident?”

A pause.

“Hey! That wasn’t my fault, I was so nervous, you just sat back and laughed,” Seokjin says, half-yelling, half-laughing, voice almost smoothed normal again.

“Ok, ok thanks, I’ll see you later.” A murmured goodbye.

Hoseok carefully and quietly runs back down the hall, waits 10 seconds, and casually makes his way back, rounding the corner, bottle in hand.

“Hyung, whats up,” he says, casual as he can make it. He almost goes in for a fist bump and then shakes his hand out instead. What does he normally do with his hands? Ah, probably just let them rest by his sides. He’s chill, he’s chill.

“Ah Hobi-ah, what are you doing here?” Voice calm, cheery. If he hadn’t been 10 feet away, he’d never have known.

“Just getting some water.”

Seokjin waits for him as they fill up their water bottles in comfortable silence.

“Hey hyung, you want a piggyback ride back?”

Seokjin’s eyes light up, a glint to them.

“The practice room’s only a minute away.”

“Still a minute hyung.”

“Ah Hobi,” Seokjin crows. “I always knew you were my favorite.”

Hoseok’s back aches slightly with the extra weight, but it’s worth it to hear Seokjin laugh again, no trace of that frustrated resignation coloring his tone.

They come barging into the practice room, the door slamming against the opposite wall with a shout. Seokjin yells out; one arm around Hoseok’s neck, the other clenched in a fist held high, and everyone’s moods imperceptibly lifts. Subtle, to anyone who hadn’t spent nearly a decade living and breathing with them, but obvious to Hoseok - the tilt of Yoongi’s smile, Namjoon’s dimple just indenting, Jimin collapsing into Taehyung into Jungkook. Just enough to get them through the rest of the night.

Curiosity burns at him but he can wait. He’s just glad for now, that Seokjin has someone else he can trust and talk to, when he can’t come to them.

 

* * *

 

Jungkook’s bored.

He’s currently splayed out, starfish style, Tae loudly tapping out a text next to him, the both of them limp on Taehyung’s bed. He’s vaguely tired and hungry, but not enough to want to get up from the comfortable nest of carefully disheveled pillows and blankets. His eyes are tender to the touch, courtesy of the 6 hours of Overwatch done and behind him. There’s only so many matches he can play before it starts to get a little much, especially when the vitriol starts to pour in from his 14 year old teammates. He and Tae have no problem muting, but it gets old after a while.

He’d go to Jimin’s room, only he’s still at dance rehearsal practicing his solo stage for the umpteenthm time. Hoseok’s locked away in his studio for the time being and he knows Yoongi and Namjoon are out seeing friends. Seokjin mentioned that he’d be out for a bit, but that’d he be at his apartment for the night, if they needed to reach him for emergencies.

Bingo.

It doesn’t take long to walk there, even with Taehyung clinging to his back, pajamas packed away in preparation for an all nighter.

They let themselves into the apartment. It’s that unique mix of classy and tacky that Seokjin likes to boast, all the way down to the minimalist kitchen furniture to his human-sized corn sculpture to the monstrously fluffy pillows and blankets that cover the entire couch, inescapable.

He heads straight for the pillows. Taehyung disappears for a minute, and comes back dragging all the blankets from the guest room to form a massive blanket pile in the middle of the living room. They both nosedive in with twin groans of contentedness.

Their next course of action: snacks. Seokjin’s pantry was always stocked with a variety of different chips, crackers, protein packets, and fruit, something for whatever mood he feels like. Jungkook skips right over the fruit and hauls in chip bags by the armful, dumping them on the living room coffee table. He and Taehyung scuffle briefly over the dorito bag before ultimately deciding to share it.

Seokjin’s place has the same big TV that their shared apartment does, accompanied with all the latest gaming systems. Jungkook hones in on his switch and loads up Smash. Seokjin’s got about half of the characters unlocked - but there’s still half to go. He cracks his knuckles, then his neck. He’s got work to do.

He’s about 6 characters down when he hears the front door click open, the sound of murmured voices and laughter filling the space. There’s the sound of bodies thudding against a door.

“Oh hey hyung, how was dinner- oh Ken-hyung, hi!”

Taehyung’s voice is as bright as it was 2 hours ago, though Jungkook himself feels about 10 years older, tender eyes almost glazed over. He feels a hit in between his shoulder blades, jolting him out of his induced haze, and turns more out of instinct than his usual retaliatory punch.

Seokjin and Jaehwan have their arms intertwined, puffy jackets wet with evening dew. They look slightly disheveled, Jaehwan’s normally coiffed hair flattened and Seokjin’s flat hair mussed up around the back. Jaehwan smiles, his usual bright, friendly thing. Seokjin on the other hand looks miffed - eyebrows slanted down just slightly, jaw unusually sharp, the pursed pout that precedes a rant. Jungkook squints. It could still swing either way, serious or exaggerated, though the way Seokjin’s eyeing them looks a little too frustrated to entirely be joking.

“We’ll clean up hyung, promise,” Taehyung says, as Jungkook tries to discreetly push the mess of tangled wires and game disks into a neat pile. Belatedly, he realizes the mess of chip bags on the coffee table and winces slightly.

“Look, we unlocked more of the characters for you!” Jungkook says, a last bid, against Seokjin’s increasingly furrowed eyebrows.

Jungkook turns to Jaehwan, big, pleading moon eyes that work on Yoongi whenever he “forgets” to do chores, and it works like a dream; Jaehwan winks at him and turns to Seokjin, tapping him on the nose.

“I guess we’ll have company for the night then Jinnie.”

Seokjin lets out a grumpy little sigh, hand coming up to rub his forehead. Jaehwan nudges him by the hip, hand coming around to settle snugly at his waist. He whispers something down into Seokjin’s ear, drawing out an eye roll and a reluctant smile.

Jungkook sends a prayer up above. God bless Jaehwan, their own Seokjin wrangler.

Seokjin crosses over the room and settles down next to him on the floor with a huff. He grabs the controller out of Jungkook’s hands.

“You peeked at my number combination didn’t you?” Seokjin asks.

He zeroes right in on Isabelle and selects her.

Jungkook scoffs. What was he supposed to do, _not_ look at Seokjin when he was keying in his number pad to get in? In his humble opinion, that was more of a Seokjin problem.

“Yeah,” “No,” he and Taehyung say simultaneously. Taehyung throws a chip bag at his head, that he graciously allows to hit the side of his head before he pounces on him, tackling him from the couch to the floor.

They scuffle, briefly. Taehyung has one hell of a chokehold, but Jungkook’s always been wilier, courtesy of the, by now, years of practice he’s had wrestling with Seokjin. He emerges victorious, clutching Taehyung’s sock.

“You guys want any tea? Hot chocolate? Water?” Jaehwan calls from the kitchen. He’s posed by the kitchen doorway, one foot in, one out. He seems unperturbed by Taehyung’s splayed position on the floor, Jungkook proudly thrusting one sock in the air.

“Hot chocolate please,” chimes Taehyung, and then he wants one, and then Seokjin can’t not have one either.

Jaehwan gives a thumbs up and waltzes back into the kitchen.

Jungkook grabs another controller and settles back into the game. Toggling back and forth, he waffles between Bayonetta, his usual pick, and Rosalina, one he’s just started playing, before finally settling on Bayonetta. He’s got to be loyal first and foremost.

Seokjin wins by a bare margin, through his dirty, dirty tactic of waiting to hit Jungkook with a joke that makes him double over in how bad it is, and timing his final smash at the precise moment of Jungkook’s vulnerability. The absolute betrayal. 

Seokjin wisely taps out after that, handing off his controller to Taehyung.

“I’ll go help Jaehwan out, you leeches. Try not to break anything.”

Jungkook nods, a little viciously. He’s not responsible for the amounts of havoc he’d have unleashed if Seokjin stayed in the game.

He tunes back into the game. Taehyung’s chosen Wii Fit Trainer and is not so subtly beating his entire ass, which is vaguely disappointing, but mostly an expected loss. He’s distantly aware of low voices over the sound of Waluigi getting his shit kicked in.

“Come get the hot chocolate in the kitchen, I’m not carrying it out there so you guys can spill it on my pillows!”

Jungkook and Taehyung trade glances. Jungkook looks down at the huge dorito stain on Seokjin’s fluffy white pillow, and then looks back up. Taehyung silently flips the pillow around. They both nod, once, at each other, and get up, in silent agreement to never speak of it.

When they finally make their way to the kitchen, Jaehwan’s pouring the last of the hot chocolate in two reindeer mugs, both of which he hands carefully to each of them.

Jungkook eyes the cup Seokjin’s holding, noting the extra marshmallows he’s added into his own. Logically, he knows his probably only has a couple less, but emotionally, it feels as if Seokjin’s robbed him of the entire marshmallow bag. There’s only one thing he can do.

“Wow hyung, this is nice, you’re all dressed up,” Taehyung says, a lilting impressed tone that’d sound sarcastic on anyone else but just sounds sincere coming from Taehyung. He fingers the material of Seokjin’s clinging button-down, silk and gleaming in the low lights of the kitchen. It contrasts with Jaehwan’s canary yellow sweater, a little heart embroidered on it, filling the room up with its brightness.

“We just went out to try a new restaurant,” Seokjin says, waving away his hands and then folding his arms across his chest, abnormally high. His ears are tinged red.

“Yeah, he looks cute doesn’t he?” Jaehwan asks, in conspiratorial tones.

“Not as cute as you Jaehwan-hyung,” Taehyung says, cheesing smile out big and in full force. Jaehwan waves at him with a pleased grin. Seokjin flicks Taehyung on the forehead.

“Hurry up and drink your hot chocolates devils.”

Jungkook swipes the mug out from Seokjin’s hand, swapping it out for his own.

“Hey!” He dances out of Seokjin’s reach back into the living room, slurping up the soft melted bits of marshmallow happily. Ah, that was much better, so much tastier than his own.

He turns back around to catch Seokjin’s reaction, expecting his scrunched up fond-annoyed face, or maybe even a chokehold, if Seokjin was willing to sacrifice the hot chocolate and his wood floors to get the drink back. It wouldn’t be the first time, solely on the principle of the matter. Instead, Seokjin’s still back in the kitchen, folded against Jaehwan, their heads bent together, talking in lowered voices. Jaehwan’s hand comes up, brushes against Seokjin’s cheek just barely, the gentlest of touches, and Seokjin smiles, rolls his eyes. He doesn’t back away.

Weird, weird, weird, Seokjin hates his face being touched, even by Jimin, who could swindle his way into Seokjin‘s lap and good graces better than any of them.

Jungkook frowns. It feels like a secret exposed, a puzzle piece of something much bigger that he wasn’t supposed to see. It makes him want to dig, to expose, to know what it was that he was missing here, but he blinks and the two of them are normal again, still chatting, still close, but that was normal for Seokjin‘s friends. Jaehwan says something and makes a face, expressive as if he’s telling a story, and Seokjin busts up, gesturing back as they continue to talk, right at home in their own little world together.

He’d have to ask Taehyung later, if he’d noticed anything, but that could wait until after their rematch.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, is this new?”

Yoongi dips a finger into Seokjin‘s sleeve, pulling it up, testing it. Soft, cashmere most likely, a bright canary yellow with a small heart patch on its breast pocket. He’d think it was Jimin’s except it was far too big, beyond even his oversized aesthetic. It fit Seokjin well, which meant logically it should’ve been his, but he knew Seokjin tended towards cooler tones, neutrals, things that’d be easy to pair and throw on.

So, that left it as a gift, fan or friend-given.

Seokjin looks down, as if he’d forgotten what he was wearing, and looks back up with a slight frown.

“No, I don’t think so?”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows.

“Where’d you get it?”

“I just grabbed it from the closet, it’s just a random sweater.”

Yoongi tilts his head. “No, this isn’t one of ours, I’d remember. It’s only big enough to be yours.”

“Well, I didn’t get it!” Seokjin‘s starting to sound bewildered and slightly defensive - less in an offended way, and more in the, he didn’t know what was going on way.

Yoongi shrugs, letting it go.

“It looks nice on you.”

Seokjin squints, a little suspiciously, but just ends up bumping shoulders with him.

“Of course it does. You’d better be grateful, when you end up falling asleep on my shoulder half-way through anyways. Now help me set up the movie, I don’t know what all these wires are for.”

Seokjin pouts, and Yoongi rolls his eyes with a smile.

“Okay you baby,” he says.

“Hey!” 

It isn’t until the next night, that he thinks maybe something else is going on.

“Yoongs?”

Seokjin‘s voice, faintly, from what sounded like the bathroom. Yoongi debates continuing to read and pretending like he never heard, or responding, like he probably should.

He lets out a put-upon sigh, exaggerated to hopefully project his very slight annoyance to Seokjin.

“Yeah?”

“Did you take the last towel?”

Yoongi winces. That’s what he’d forgotten. The last bathroom towel sits wrapped around his waist, underneath the fluffiest bathrobe he owns.

He debates shouting back no, but at that point, he isn’t sure what the purpose would be, other than to piss off an already potentially pissed off Seokjin.

“Yeah, sorry Jin-hyung,” he shouts over, feeling a little more contrite thinking of Seokjin shivering alone in their bathroom.

“Can you bring another one?”

“Yeah alright.” He acquiesces easily - problem solved.

He grabs one from their hamper and knocks on the bathroom door.

Seokjin‘s face appears in the crack of the door, a sliver of an eye and nose, and then his whole visage, a relieved look on his face. Steam billows out around him, his hair still dripping wet rivulets down his neck and collarbones and- wait.

A glint of metal and steel - a ring, hung on a delicate silver chain looped around Seokjin‘s neck. It’s rose-gold, thin, plain stated, something engraved on the inside that’s too small to read. He’s never seen that before, but then again, he can’t recall the last time he saw Seokjin shirtless; he was always careful about changing even when they were roommates. And in the rush of the dressing room or before a stage, they were always all too preoccupied with their own costumes to worry about anyone else’s state of dress.

He reaches out unknowingly, touches the looped chain, barely a brush against his wet skin before Seokjin jerks back, hidden behind the bathroom door, just the furrowed arch of his eyebrows and wide, wide eyes peeking out.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh sorry. What is that, I’ve never seen it before?”

“It’s just an old jewelry piece I grabbed from one of the boys.” Seokjin looks suspicious, so much as eyebrows can look suspicious.

“I’d remember that, I don’t recognize this.”

Seokjin‘s eyes narrow and he huffs out.

“It was a gift, if you must know.”

“Sorry,” he says mildly. “Just curious hyung, didn’t mean to intrude.”

He hands over the towel and Seokjin softens, quickly taking it through the slice of the door.

“Thanks Yoongi-yah.”

“No problem.”

Something aches in his chest, but he smiles and turns away.

 

* * *

  

“Wait Seokjin, where’s your floral harness? It was supposed to be in the drawer with the others, did you move it?”

He frowns. No, he hadn’t recalled moving it but now that he thinks about it, he also didn’t recall seeing it in the drawers earlier this evening with the rest of the harnesses for their outfits. They’re still a couple hours out before performing, but the team usually liked them to do the sound check with their outfits on, to check lighting, anything that could clash weirdly with the background.

“No, I didn’t, but I’ll help you guys look. It’s got to be here somewhere right?”

It isn’t. They’re 20 minutes in and he can tell the stylists are getting increasingly frazzled, though they’re sure to not show it, professionals that they are. He’s getting increasingly puzzled too - where could it have gone?

The last time he’d worn it was a couple of days ago, at their MNET recording. He remembers how long the taping had gotten, recording the same songs over and over again, and with a setlist of three songs, it’d lasted until past midnight before they were done. He remembers Namjoon rubbing at his calf, how he’d had to have it massaged as he limped off stage. He remembers Taehyung, strangely energetic even after a full night’s recording, how he’d had to gently push him towards Jimin to mess around with. He remembers walking sluggishly and half-asleep, as the stylists allowed them to just head home in their outfits for the night and return them tomorrow to be dry-cleaned, as it was nearing 2 am by the time they finished and it was clear all of them had just been eager to go home.

He’d gone back to his own apartment that night, had messaged Jaehwan earlier on in recording that he’d probably be back late. Jaehwan had messaged back that he’d be at the apartment, keeping their bed warm and hogging all the blankets.

He’d arrived home, bone-tired and staggering, and Jaehwan had been up in bed, eyes drooping, scrolling through his phone to keep him awake. They'd connected eyes in the dark of the bedroom, and Seokjin had all but collapsed in his arms.

“Hi,” Jaehwan had murmured, into Seokjin‘s neck, arms sinking around him, warm and sleep-soft and familiar, an embrace Seokjin had known for more than half a decade, before fingering the harness curiously.

“This is... interesting,” he’d said, eyebrows raised, mischievous look in his eyes as he stared up at Seokjin, the sleepiness slowly replaced with something else.

Seokjin hadn’t gotten much sleep that night. He’d nearly been late arriving back at the studio the next day, clothes hastily stuffed in a bag, bowing low and apologetic at how wrinkled they were. He doesn’t remember the harness being in the bag.

He groans, slapping his forehead. He approaches Eun, their wardrobe stylist, with grim determination.

“I think I know where it is.”

One phone call to Jaehwan later, and he’s reassuring a slightly peeved Eun that it’d be arriving in an hour, and that he’d practice without it for now. She squints at him and he smiles sheepishly at her, bringing his hands together in a clasp.

“Forgive me noona. I’ll accept any punishment you see fit,” he says, very seriously.

Eun snorts.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute. Go on, call me the second you get the harness back.”

Seokjin bows and runs off with the rest of the boys to stage. The rehearsal goes off without a hitch and they’re shepherded backstage to finish tightening up the rest of the costumes and start their makeup.

He feels a quick buzz against his leg.

 **jaehwannie**  
I’m here~~~~~  
come get me~

Seokjin smiles, disrupting the makeup-noona applying blush on his cheeks. She glances down at his phone and directs a fond smirk at him.

“Go on, hurry up,” she says and he gives her a charming little grin, knows it hits her soft spot for him, and hurries to the hallway door, yanking it open and abruptly coming face to face with Jaehwan, bag in hand and crinkled up smile, looking both pleased and a little shy. Seokjin startles back, but recovers quickly. Something about having Jaehwan near always calms him, a familiar balm no matter the situation.

It isn’t the first time Jaehwan has visited him at work, but it’s the first time it’s during the middle of everything, the team in full production mode as they all prepare for their stage. It’s crowded and loud, but the arrival of someone distinctly new in their space draws attention and soon after, the rest of the boys notice.

“Ken-hyung!” comes Jimin’s delighted voice from the makeup chair, as he turns to them, the hair stylist moving with him, already well-used to the boys’ various distractions and general restlessness.

They all yell across various greetings, as Jaehwan grins and gives a cheery wave back.

“Hey guys! Don’t mind me, I’m just here to drop off Jinnie’s outfit.”

The boys shout out encouragements for him to stay, to watch their performance. He and Jaehwan exchange glances. Jaehwan eyes him curiously, thoughtful as always checking in if he wouldn't be too much of a bother. Seokjin shrugs back - up to him, but he probably wouldn’t have much time to give to him. Jaehwan nods in understanding.

“I’ll stay for a little bit,” he concedes, and Jimin and Taehyung cheer. Jaehwan hands over the bag and Eun makes quick work of pulling the harness back on Seokjin, giving it a quick adjustment, and moving on once she gives a satisfied tug to secure it around his waist.

Seokjin makes his way back to the makeup chair, as Jaehwan comes to a cautious stop behind him. He feels strangely conscious of the way Jaehwan eyes him, watching him get soft pink eyeshadow dusted on, feeling a fluttering nervousness he hasn’t felt around Jaehwan in a long time. They meet eyes in the mirror and Jaehwan smiles, raising his eyebrows up and down rapidly. Seokjin stifles a giggle as the makeup-noona moves onto lip gloss. A wave of contentedness rises and crests in him.

After his makeup is done and the makeup artist moves onto Hoseok, he remains seated, as Jaehwan moves a little closer, almost into the “v” of his legs but not quite. Jaehwan’s eyes roam his face and Seokjin feels himself smile, as Jaehwan brushes a piece of his bangs aside.

“I should probably head out,” Jaehwan whispers. “I was supposed to meet Won-sik for dinner, I might be a little late now.”

“Oh, sorry Wannie, you should’ve just left,” he says, standing up worriedly.

Jaehwan shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it Jinnie. I wanted to stay and see my husband’s charm in real time,” he says, teasing grin as he tugs on Jin’s harness. Seokjin flushes, the memories of that night flooding back to him, as he rolls his eyes, gently shoving Jaehwan to the door.

“I’ll see you at home later, yeah?” Jaehwan asks.

“Okay jagi.” It comes out quiet and fond, permeated with the softness that Jaehwan draws out of him effortlessly, a private moment within the chaos of their dressing room.

Jaehwan kisses him, gentle and firm, and Seokjin kisses back, automatically and sweetly, like they’ve done a thousand times.

He doesn’t realize everyone’s frozen around him until after they’ve pulled apart and Jaehwan’s mouth drops open, his eyes darting around.

“Uh,” Jaehwan says, noticing the sudden pocket of quiet. “Oops,” he whispers, eyes wide, the hint of a panicked smile threatening to edge up.

Seokjin freezes. Most of the staff know, but he’s distinctly aware that its his boys that he’s most worried about, that he’d left, if not completely consciously, in the dark about this whole situation.

“Jin?” comes Namjoon’s voice, bewildered but quiet.

Jaehwan’s hand comes to settle at his waist, and Seokjin turns to him, sees the question in his eyes. Seokjin shakes his head, kisses him quickly once more, and they whisper goodbye to each other, Jaehwan slipping out silently. This is his discussion to have.

He turns to the boys, various levels of surprise and confusion and curiosity speckled across their expressions.

“Are you seeing Jaehwan-hyung?” asks Hoseok, his tone curious, though strangely not with as much surprise as he’d have expected.

“Um. Yup.”

“How long?” Jungkook looks shocked but also surprisingly victorious, as if he’d figured something out.

“A few years?” He counts out in his head. If he was counting everything, then just over 6 years, though the first year had been more dancing around each other, always something more than best friends but not quite lovers.

“We’re actually-” he takes a deep breath.

“Married,” Yoongi says quietly, a small, strange smile on his face, staring down, surprise rapidly fading away to reveal understanding. Seokjin startles, but he figures out of everyone, of course it’d be Yoongi who’d have the closest idea, even if he hadn’t been aware of the big picture until now.

Another almost tangible ripple of surprise as the rest of the boys jerk back, in shock. Jimin’s jaw drops even lower as he struggles to comprehend the situation, eyes darting all over Seokjin as if trying to find physical evidence of all of this.

“Yeah. Almost a year now,” he says quietly, the same little thrill that rocks through him every time he thinks about it.

There’s a heavy pause, as everyone takes a moment to take in the barrage of information that’s been revealed within the last 30 seconds. It’s not like he purposefully meant to keep the information from them; first it never came up, and then there was never a good time to tell them, and then it felt like he couldn’t tell them, it’d been too long. He stands there, hands folded to stop their trembling, waiting in anticipation for their response.

“That explains so much,” Taehyung says seriously, before breaking out into a big smile. “Congrats hyung!”

“Hey! Don’t think there won’t be consequences later as to why you didn’t tell us. AND when you had the wedding.” Jimin has a pouty, squinted look to his face, but it melts away into a smile after a moment, happiness shining through. “I’m happy for you hyung.”

Namjoon’s the first to pull him into a hug, and then Hoseok’s coming up behind him to sandwich him between them, and then he loses track of the arms that envelop him, enfolding him into the middle of their embrace. He feels warm and loved.

They separate, after a long clutching moment, and Seokjin wipes at his eyes discreetly, feeling heavy with emotion, relief, peace.

“So.” Jungkook’s eyes have a manic glitter to them, all big and wide and filled with a hundred terrible ideas. “We should have him for dinner. Officially welcome him into the family.”

Seokjin gulps, a sting of fear zipping through him. Right, they’d hung out with Jaehwan before, they’d seen him a month ago and it was fine.

“Have him _over_ for dinner.”

“Sure,” Jimin says. His smile is smug, filled with possibility and vaguely sadistic glee.

Seokjin groans. It has to be done, it’s what he would’ve wanted had anyone else brought their partners home too. Time to gird up his loins and take it like an adult.

He nods, and then takes off running to the door, flailing his arms when he almost clips the doorway, careening down the hallway. He hears Jungkook give a whoop and give chase, Jimin’s laughter following him out.

It’s worth it all, he thinks, to be able to share his life with his best friends.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!!! any comments/feedback are deeply appreciated, i'd love to hear what you all think!!
> 
> also pls come talk with me about kenjin/kenjindeul on [twitter](https://twitter.com/honeyloafjin), i'm starving ;-;;;;
> 
> (there’s another bts ot7 husbands fic waiting to be written here lmao)


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